You also know it's love when you can't stop talking to each other. Almost every couple I've ever interviewed said that on their first or second date, they talked for hours and hours. For some, falling in love is like walking into a soundproof confessional booth, a place where you can tell all.
Finding love can be like discovering a gilded ballroom on the other side of your dingy apartment, and at the same time like finding a pair of great old blue jeans that are exactly your size and seem as if you've worn them forever. I can't tell you how many women have told me they knew they were in love because they forgot to wear makeup around their boyfriend. Or because they fell at ease hanging around him in flannel pajamas. There's some modern truth to Cinderella's tale—it's love when you've incredibly comfortable, then the shoe fits perfectly.
Finally, I think you've in love if you can make each other laugh at the very worst times—when the IRS is auditing you or when you're driving a convertible in a rainstorm or when your hair is turning gray. As someone once told me, 90 percent of being in love is making each other's lives funnier and easier, all the way to the deathbed.
Seven years ago I started writing about love and weddings for the New York Times in a column called "Vows". And now that I have been on this bea for so long, a strange thing has happened:I'm considered an expert on love. The truth is, love is still mostly a mystery to me. The only thing I can confidently say is this: Love is as plentiful as oxygen. You don't have to be thin, naturally blond, super-successful, socially connected, knowledgeable about politics or even particularly charming to find it.
I've interviewed many people who were down on their luck in every way—a ballerina with chronic back problems, a physicist who had been 112 (he counted) disastrous blind dates, a clarinet player who was a single dad and could barely pay the rent. But love, when they found it, brought humor, candlelight, home-cooked meals, fun, adventure, poetry and long conversations into their lives.
When people ask me where to find love, I tell a story about one of my first job interviews. It was with an editor at a famous literary magazine. I had no experience or skills, and he didn't for one second consider hiring me. But he gave me some advice I will never forget. He said, "Go out into the world. Work hard and concentrate on what you love to do, writing. If you become good, we will find you."
That's why I always tell people looking for love to wait for that "I won the lottery" feeling—wait, wait, wait! Don't read articles about how to trap, seduce or hypnotize a mate. Don't worry about your lipstick or your height, because it's not going to matter. Just live your life well, take care of yourself, and don't hope too much. Love will find you.
Eventually it even found me. At 28, I met my husband. At a stationery store, I was buying a typewriter ribbon, and he was looking at Filofaxes. I remember that his eyes perfectly matched his faded jeans. He remembers that my sneakers were full of sand. He still talks about those sneakers and how they evoked his childhood—bonfires by the ocean, driving on the sand in an old Jeep—all those things that he cherished.
How did I know that it was true love? Our first real date lasted for nine hours: we just couldn't stop talking. I had never been able to dance in my life, but I could dance with him, perfectly in step. I have learned that it's love when you finally stop tripping over your toes.
A year after we met, we married.
I have come to cherish writing the "Vows" column. With each story I hear, I have proof that love, optimism, guts, grace, perfect partners and good luck do, in fact, exist. Love, in my opinion, is not a fantasy, not the stuff of romance novels or fairy tales. It's as gritty and real as the subway, it comes around just as regularly, and as long as you can stick it out on the platform, you won't miss it.
我对爱情的初识始于12岁，那时，我在一所舞蹈学校上学。记得第一天，我就想自己会疯狂地爱上某个男孩，并和他接吻，在华尔兹中共度一年的校园时光。
课上，我坐在女生当中，等着某个男孩来邀我跳舞。令我倍感吃惊的是，我总是最后一个被邀请出列。最初，我以为男生们搞错了。我长得可爱又漂亮，打网球没人能赢我，爬树比一只猫还快。为何他们不争着邀请我呢？
一节又一节课，我看着那些穿着蓝色运动服和灰色裤子的男生围着那些打扮得花枝招展的女孩转，而女生们的马尾辫则在脑后有节奏地甩来甩去，让我不解的是，他们的舞步是那样和谐。于是我想，爱情总是垂青那些优雅斯文的女孩，而对于我这样一个上蹿下跳的女孩是遥不可及的。
到了13岁，我学会了在没人邀请我时，如何巧妙地昂起头，把眼泪凝聚在眼眶中不让它从脸颊滑落。与此同时，我也发现了“化妆间”的妙用。每次想哭的时候，我就借故跑进灯光柔和的“化妆间”，那是我心灵的避风港。
直到我遇上马特，这样的日子才总算告一段落。他很文静，常坐在房间的一角。初次跳舞时，他甚至不敢直视我的眼睛，但他很幽默，给我讲了很多有趣的故事。我们成了要好的朋友和舞伴，直到毕业。我跟他学了有关爱情的最重要一课：爱无处不在，既存在于最明显之处，也会藏在最不起眼的地方。
此后数年，我的爱情生活一直像一部悲喜交加的长篇小说。上大学时，我爱上了英语系一个骑摩托车的高个男生。他在我们第六次约会——跳伞时失了约。那天下午，我独自从飞机上跳下，降落在一个停车场。
25岁左右，我搬到了纽约，一个难觅真爱的地方，在这里寻找爱情就如同寻找合法的停车位一般艰难。在纽约的第一个情人节，我去西区北部的一间热闹的酒吧赴约，晚餐吃了一半，我的约会对象便借故离席，再没回来。
那时，一个漂亮的女孩与我共处一室。追求她的人很多，她收到的花可堆积成山；电话录音机上的灯疯狂地闪个不停，录满了追求者们的留言；大型豪华轿车在门外叫个不停，等候在茶色玻璃窗外接她去赴约。
